


where you go i will go

by SouthSideStory



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: AUs, M/M, Stormtrooper!Poe, jedi!Finn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-05 05:41:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14037393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SouthSideStory/pseuds/SouthSideStory
Summary: "There’s an energy between them, some spark that gives FN-2187 hope that maybe this plan isn’t crazy. (It is, but one moment to set that aside won’t hurt.) This is the best pilot in the Resistance, a man who can fly anything, even a TIE fighter tethered to the hangar bay of the Finalizer.Later, when Finn pulls a jacket out of a smoking cockpit, he thinks of his rescuer, this fleeting friend who gave him a name, and wishes for another chance. A different first meeting, some way to find Poe Dameron that didn’t end this way."





	where you go i will go

**Author's Note:**

> For the respect-for-finn’s Finn Appreciation Week prompt “First Meetings”

 

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**1: _you need a pilot_**

There’s an energy between them, some spark that gives FN-2187 hope that maybe this plan isn’t crazy. (It is, but one moment to set that aside won’t hurt.) This is the best pilot in the Resistance, a man who can fly anything, even a TIE fighter tethered to the hangar bay of the _Finalizer._

Later, when Finn pulls a jacket out of a smoking cockpit, he thinks of his rescuer, this fleeting friend who gave him a name, and wishes for another chance. A different first meeting, some way to find Poe Dameron that didn’t end this way.

.

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**2: _what’s your name?_**

The question catches FN-2187 off guard, because he doesn’t have a name. Stormtroopers are just creatures in death’s head masks; interchangeable, expendable, and expendable things don’t need names.

“FN…”

What the hell is he thinking? He can’t give a stormtrooper number to a random man in a cantina—no matter how handsome he is.

“Finn?” he asks.

“Uh, yeah. And you?”

“Poe Dameron,” the guys says. “Good to meet you, Finn.”

He likes that. Finn _._ It feels right. It feels _real._

Poe looks him up and down, his gaze slow and heated in a way that Finn can’t mistake. He isn’t subtle, that’s for sure.

They talk for half an hour, just drinking and chatting about small nothings, but Finn knows it’s mostly a set-up for the real question. Poe isn’t out for a conversation, although he’s certainly smart enough and charming enough to carry one. He’s looking for a good time, and he seems to think he’ll find that with Finn.

It’s exciting, but nerve-wracking. Except for a kiss with his friend, FN-2232—hurried and tasting of the liquor she shared with him—he’s never done anything. And it certainly seems like Poe has done plenty.

“Look,” Finn says. “I really like you, but I can’t—I mean, I _can_ , but I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to…”

Poe raises his eyebrows. “For you to what?”

“Never mind.” Finn shakes his head. He’s an idiot; a boy bumbling along, making assumptions. “I just thought you wanted more out of tonight than I do. But I was probably wrong.”

Poe smiles in a way that looks more like a frown, then shrugs. “Well, I was gonna ask you to come back to my hotel with me, but I guess that’s the kind of _more_ you don’t want. Right?”

“Right,” Finn says.

Except, that isn’t right at all. Saying no to Poe makes his stomach sink and his heartbeat dull, like his whole body is disappointed in his choice.

Poe raises his glass of blue whiskey and says, “Well, I’d still like to sit and talk with you for a while. You’re good company, Finn.”

So they talk. Not about where they’re from or who they are, nor where they’re going. They fill the night with quieter, more intimate confessions. That Poe loves to fly more than anything, and when he can’t find peace anywhere else, he can find it in the air. That Finn feels afraid most of the time, but it’s a fear he’s learned to carry—even as it weighs him down—because he doesn’t have any other choice.

Dawn light streams through the cantina’s windows, and the barkeep kicks them out into the golden morning.

“Well,” Poe says. “I guess I better turn in.”

Finn looks to the ground, counting cracks in the sidewalk. There are broken pieces even here, on Hosnian Prime, the place where the Republic lives and breathes.

“Can I come with you?” Finn asks.

Poe smiles, wide and bright. “I thought you’d never ask.”

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**3: _fn-0303_**

Threes is FN-2187’s newest teammate, and gods, if he isn’t a pain in the ass. Handsome, clever, brave—but a pain, one that FN-2187 would very much like to get rid of. He’s irreverent and disobedient, and as the de facto leader of this fireteam, FN-2187 can’t risk a weak link breaking their chain. He has enough to look out for without a reckless teammate to watch over.

“I ought to be a TIE pilot,” Threes says. “This isn’t where I belong.”

“And how do you know that?” FN-2187 asks.

He can hear the grin in Threes’s voice when he says, “Because I took a TIE for a joyride when we were on Starkiller.”

FN-2187 has to smile too (not that it can be seen), because Threes has somehow maintained the sort of personal freedom that gets stamped out of most stormtroopers young. It’s admirable, if not very smart.

That night, Threes sneaks into his bunk and kisses him.

FN-2187 grabs at the collar of his shirt. “You know we’re not allowed to—”

“Yeah, I know,” he says, so unconcerned that he makes it sound easy.

But it isn’t easy for FN-2187. He’s already on thin ice, even if nobody knows it. He can’t hope to get the hell out of here if he draws attention to himself. But Threes’s hands are warm under his shirt, his mouth is soft, and he smells like some kind of ripe fruit. Too sweet to be real, which doesn’t suit him at all. He’s rash and smart with a streak of compassion that’s likely to get him killed, but Threes isn’t sweet.

He kisses him again, and this time FN-2187 kisses back.

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**4: _tangled_**

The Jedi way doesn’t come easy to Finn. Things aren’t light and dark for him; it’s all wrapped up in shades of grey. He has to weigh every choice carefully to decide what matters. These things don’t lay themselves out for him, destined by divine power, not the way they should for a Jedi.

Still, he feels the light. Its warmth, suffusing the air, tying up every atom in the galaxy. He imagines a string running between the stars, connecting the constellations, and running between people too, a thread that binds every living thing together.

When he meets Poe Dameron, Finn has to do a double take. The pilot’s light shines so brightly, vivid energy congregating around him, almost as if he was Force sensitive. He’s not—Finn can feel that too—but he matters more than most in the grand scheme of things. He’s an instrument of the Force, like Finn and Rey and Kylo Ren, even if he lacks the powers they have.

Finn reaches out and catches him by the sleeve of his jacket.

Poe frowns at him, looking half pissed and half impressed. “What do you need, pal?”

Finn lets go of him and says, “Nothing. Sorry.”

Poe hurries on, presumably to attend to whatever Resistance matter he’s busy with.

Finn watches him leave, and it doesn’t upset him the way maybe it should.

He isn’t certain of much, but he is sure of this: the Force has plans for Poe, and somehow his thread will entwine with Finn’s.

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End file.
